


Shiro Isn't Dead

by shir-no (iguanastevens)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alice Isn't Dead AU, Body Horror, Horror, Keith is a space trucker, M/M, Psychological Horror, galactic roadtrip, surrealist horror, told through diary entries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iguanastevens/pseuds/shir-no
Summary: Pilot Takashi Shirogane, along with scientists Sam and Matt Holt, are missing and presumed dead after an exploratory mission suffered a catastrophic accident.But Shiro isn't dead, and Keith is going to find him - no matter what it takes.





	1. Chapter 1

**_[dearshiro1.raw]_ **

        Hey, it's me. Keith. Though you probably figured that out already. Shit, this is a bad start, but I don't know if you'll ever hear this anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

        You told me once that there weren't any mysteries like there used to be, remember? That most of the questions - the big ones, the ones people have always asked, the ones that we thought were magic or gods like how the earth was created or why we even exist - that most of those had been answered. Or, if we couldn't say for sure, we at least had a pretty good guess.

        You seemed kind of sad about that. I think you always wanted to be the person to answer something we didn't think we'd ever be able to, and you know, I thought you would.

        I didn't think you'd become one of the mysteries, but I guess that's how life works sometimes.

        You'd think that was pretty funny. Or at least I think you'd think it was. I'm not sure if I'm right or not. I would have been before - I always knew what you were thinking, even when you didn't say anything, but that was before... you know, everything.

        You were right about the mysteries, though. At least some of the time. Stuff doesn't happen out of the blue so much. For example, no one just vanishes into thin air, not with trackers and cameras and so many eyes from so many people who pay just enough attention to notice stuff. People don't just disappear.

        But you did.

        Of course, no one else thinks you did.

        Just me. Maybe I'm an idiot, or just fucking pathetic. That's what everyone else says. Or would have said, if I told them where I was going.

        So, Shiro, here I am. Looking for you.

        I know you're not dead.

 

**_[dearshiro2.raw]_ **

I guess I’m still recording these. I thought maybe I’d stop after the first one. It felt stupid, talking to nothi- well, talking to you, technically, but also talking to nothing, to myself. There aren’t many people out here to talk to. There’s not much of anything, except a handful of asteroid fields and a whole lot of vacuum.

        Remember how Matt would scold whenever you said that? ‘A lot of vacuum,’ ‘a bunch of empty space,’ anything like that. I never saw him as serious as when someone misused a scientific term.

        Hah. I haven’t thought about that in… well, it feels like forever. Definitely not since you disappeared. Probably not for a few months before, either, since neither of you were exactly available for brunch. I remember it now, though. And I remember how you did it on purpose – not that you ever admitted it, you always insisted that you just slipped up, that you were just a pilot, not a physicist, but it happened way too often. Every conversation, Matt would end up turning red and readjusting his glasses as he corrected you, and you just sat there and nodded and smiled that little smile you got when you didn’t want to explain what you thought was so funny.  

        I hope Matt’s okay. Sam, too. Partly because- well, if they’re alive, that makes it more likely that you’re alive.

        But that’s not all of it. It really isn’t. I hope they’re okay, just them, even if you’re not. I just… I can’t think about everyone, not right now. There’s too much happening. I can’t think about myself. I can’t even think about the empty space outside the ship, because it’s not empty enough.

        I know I said there wasn’t much around. I think that’s true. I hope it is. Maybe that’s why I’m recording this, because if I feel stupid talking to you- to myself, it’s because I’m talking to myself and not- not anything else that might be out there. In here.

        I was thinking that I would give these recordings to you when I found you. To listen to, though right now I really don’t want you to hear any of this, except for the part where it would be you listening to something. To me. You, here, listening to me. That would be good. But I thought that it might make it feel like it hadn’t been so long. Like you hadn’t been gone for months, and then _gone-_ gone for even longer. Like we were able to talk.

        So, Shiro, maybe you can’t talk back right now, but here I am, talking to you, wherever you are. When you listen to these, feel free to make as many wiseass remarks as you want and tell me I sound like an idiot. Not that you would. Will. Not that you will. You’ve always been too nice for that, aside from teasing Matt. I hope you won’t have too many of these to listen to.

        I hope it won’t be that long.

 

**_[dearshiro4.raw]_ **

         I haven’t really told you much, have I? I think I mentioned being in space, flying a ship. I know I told you I’m looking for you. That’s a lot of information, crammed into a few words. Words that would be impossible to understand for almost every human that has lived throughout our entire history – we’ve spent our whole lives with spaceships and Mars missions and moon landings,  and it’s so easy to forget how new it is. A few generations. A few generations, out of the billions and billions of people who have ever lived, and of the people who weren’t technically humans, _Homo sapiens,_ but were still people.

        Katie – Matt’s sister, though I guess you know her better than I do – she once told me that there have probably been ten to fifteen thousand generations of modern humans. That really surprised me. Not the numbers, though I assumed there would have been more generations, but that she’d said anything to me that wasn’t about computers or video games.

        We never talked much, but then again, we only met a few times.

        Sometimes I wish I’d asked her to come with me. We got along well. It’s hard to tell, it’s not like I know her, but- yeah. You know me. There aren’t many people I like spending time with. Or, there aren’t many people who like spending time with me, and I don’t like spending time with people who don’t like spending time with me. But I think I would have liked to spend more time with Katie, and I’m sure she wants to find her family as much as I want to find you. It would – shit, you’re going to laugh when you hear this – but it would be nice to have someone to talk to who can talk back.

        There wasn’t time, though. It’s not like I planned this. It kind of just happened, and it wasn’t ideal, but chances to leave the solar system and go on a cross-galaxy road trip-slash-manhunt don’t pop up every day.

        I started this by telling you that I haven’t told you much, and then saying a whole lot of nothing. Anyway. Here’s the short version.

        Aliens came and landed in the desert by the shack I was staying in. I stole one of their ships. They caught me. Yeah, shocker, but I seriously would have made it if I’d had more than thirty seconds to get used to flying a literal alien spaceship. I thought- well, I tried not to think about it too much, but I didn’t think I was getting out of that one.

        And then they just… let me go.

        Okay, they didn’t really let me go. They gave me a job. Something about me, they- I’m not sure, and I don’t trust them. I don’t think they were up to anything like a peaceful mission to meet their intergalactic neighbors, and I don’t think they sent me on their merry way out of the goodness of their hearts.

        It was like they recognized me.

        They told me I was going to move cargo for them. I would have a ship, and they would give me stuff to fly from one place to another. Sometimes I know what it is. Other times… other times, I think I’m happier not knowing.

        I’m not an idiot. I know the ship is bugged a thousand different ways, and they can track my coordinates so tightly I’d have to teleport to get away. Even that wouldn’t be enough, probably. I know they’ll come looking for me at some point. I just hope it’s later and not sooner.

        For now, I’ll fly their ship. I’ll haul their cargo. I’ve covered a lot of- a lot of space, and if you laugh at that I’m going to push you out the airlock.

        I’m looking for you, but I don’t know where to start.

        ‘Everywhere’ seems as good a place as any, and that’s where I’ve been flying – everywhere.

        Something will turn up.

        It has to.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so heads up, this is where I earn all the horror tags plastered on this fic. Like, literally all of them.

**_[dearshiro7.raw]_ **

****

         I wish this ship could fly faster. I’m off-course. I might actually be heading away from wherever it is I’m supposed to drop off this shipment. I can’t remember the name. Right now, I don’t fucking care, as long as I get as far away from that planet as I possibly can.

         Not that it matters. I think I could run to the other end of the universe and it wouldn’t make any difference. It’s not… it’s…

         Something is wrong, Shiro.

         I already knew that. I’m not an idiot – not that much of an idiot, at least.

         I can’t talk yet. I can’t think.

         I wish I could fly faster.

 

**_[dearshiro8.raw]_ **

****

         I watched them take a man apart today.

         None of those words mean the right thing. They don’t mean enough, they- they’re the wrong words. I don’t have the right words. I just-

         They’re close enough, I guess, and you’ve always been good at understanding the things I don’t know how to say.

         I watched them take a man apart today.

         I stopped at a station orbiting… fuck, I don’t know. It wasn’t a planet so much as a cluster of carbonic asteroids held together by gravity and the technological equivalent of duct tape. The station used to be a moon, before they hollowed it out to build a deep-space rest stop.

         Nothing important, or exciting, or particularly notable. It wasn’t an active war zone, and some of the levels had air I could breathe. That’s all I cared about.

         A couple of years ago, I- we would have done anything to so much as look at an alien planet. You spent more than a decade on the planning and training for the manned missions for Jupiter’s moons, and those were basically next door, and I- well, I was getting there. You’re the one who loves space, loves exploring. I mostly cared about the flying. As long as I could fly, I didn’t mind so much where I was flying.

         But an alien planet, even a backwater pile of rocks that barely even qualifies as a floating garbage heap with separation anxiety… that’s more than we ever dreamed of. You wanted to find new mysteries, but I know you never expected to meet any intelligent being who hadn’t evolved on Earth.

         And now here I am, and I didn’t even bother to learn its name.

         The station, though. _V-X-9-2-7-H-A-dash-gamma_. That’s what they called it. I remember the name. It keeps repeating in my head, like I’m reading it off a screen over and over and over.

         I wanted food. I never get anything too new or exciting – not by space standards, anyway – but at least it’s served at a temperature other than lukewarm. Usually. There’s a surprising number of planets where all the food is the same not-warm not-cool temperature. I made a delivery to an ice moon once. It was so cold I had to keep my helmet on almost the whole time. I grabbed something to eat, tried to heat it up past ‘literally frozen solid,’ and left in a hurry when the alarms went off and emergency services started to show up.

         I didn’t sit down to eat. There weren’t any tables or chairs, and I’d been stuck piloting for so long that I would have wanted to keep moving anyway, so I bought my food and walked around the station.

         There wasn’t much there. A few shops, a few businesses, not too much in the way of customers. No tourists.

         A lot of Galra soldiers. Or, not a lot, but a lot more than I was expecting. I try to avoid them without actually avoiding them. Technically I work for them, but I think it’s better if I don’t catch their attention any more than I absolutely have to. They’re everywhere, though, and they don’t seem too interested in me most of the time.

         It wasn’t empty, is what I’m saying. It wasn’t full, but there were people there. Enough people that someone should have noticed. But they just kept going by, walking and loping and flying and oozing, never stopping, never looking.

         It was just me, watching.

 

**_[dearshiro10.raw]_ **

         I miss Earth less than I thought I would, but I also miss it so much more.

         It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true: there wasn’t much there for me anymore. You weren’t there, the Garrison didn’t want anything to do with me – oh, shit, I guess I haven’t told you about that yet, remind-

         I’ll explain later.

         Most of the people I talked to were either your friends, Garrison folk, or both. By the end I’d lost contact with all of them. Turns out that most people don’t like conspiracy theories, and I’m pretty certain that anyone working with the Garrison was forbidden to hang out with me. Or maybe they just didn’t want to take the risk. Court martials will do that.

         So I didn’t have friends or work. Family is obviously a no.

         I was trapped, and all I wanted to do was find you. It wasn’t hard to leave.

         I also haven’t thought about going back. I’ve thought that I should think about going back, but even after I find you… I don’t know what we’ll do. What you’ll do. If you’ll want to go home, if you’ll even want me. I still have no idea where you went, or why, or if it was somehow your choice.

         But I don’t think I’ll go back to Earth. Not to live, at least. I want- I miss the sunsets in the desert. I want to visit Dad’s grave again. After this, I might… fuck, after this, nothing will be a big deal, so I might try to find my mom.

         Other than that? Unless you’re there, I don’t have a reason to stay. I never belonged. I didn’t have the words to say it, but I don’t think I was ever meant for Earth.

         This isn’t home, not by a long shot, but I haven’t been home since you left.

         I don’t know if that home is still there.   

 

**_[dearshiro11.raw]_ **

 

         I was heading back to where my ship was docked when I saw them.

         There were three people – aliens, obviously – walking together. One was Galra. I think he was, anyway. The other two…

         He wasn’t a soldier, just a civilian. As much as the Galra have civilians, at least.

         They stopped as if on cue. No hesitation, perfectly in sync: they were walking and then they were not. The other two stepped to either side of him, their movements perfectly matched.  

         He didn’t move. He didn’t even make a sound as they took him apart.

 

**_[dearshiro15.raw]_ **

 

         I have a weird medical record, right? Nothing works quite like it’s supposed to. You were the first person other than my dad who believed me when I told them, but I think you were still surprised when I got stung by a wasp, didn’t even notice, and then ended up with scars from an allergic reaction to a bandaid.

         I still don’t get why the Garrison didn’t give me a medical disqualification, or at least restrict me to training and research. They gave you enough shit for both of us, I guess.

         They can’t give me general anesthesia. Not at all, ever. It doesn’t make me sick, not really, but it doesn’t actually work.

         It didn’t come up until I was… thirteen, maybe? I’d been in foster care for a few months, and I wasn’t doing so great. I know, I wasn’t doing great when we met, but this was worse. A lot worse.

         When I was thirteen, after the second family had given up – no, I know, I was a kid, but they made the right call. Nothing they did would have been enough. I was too angry, and they didn’t have the ability or resources to help.

         Have I told you about this before? I don’t think so. At first I was too stubborn to trust you, and then I was too scared you’d decide I was a delinquent punk and stop trying, and then… and then we had other things to talk about. Happier things, sometimes, and so many people had tried to talk to me about my past and my record and my ‘troubled childhood’ that I didn’t want to go over it again, even with you. There wasn’t any reason, either.

         But I’m telling you now, I guess.

         So, fun fact about thirteen-year-old Keith: I stole a bike. Yeah, shocker. I bet you never would have suspected, even after I took off with your car and all.

         Anyway, I stole a bike. Not a bicycle, not a hoverbike, a genuine, honest-to-God motorcycle.

         Then I crashed it. At least it wasn’t a hoverbike- though, then again, if it had been a hoverbike I probably wouldn’t have crashed. Banged myself up pretty good. Mostly bruises, a lot of scrapes, and a broken leg.

         The doctors wanted to do surgery to fix it, so they put me out. Or they tried to, at least.

         I don’t remember anything.

         They said later that I woke up a few minutes in, before they could start anything. They said I woke up and stared at the surgeon and told him to stop, repeating it over and over while they tried to figure out what went wrong with the drugs.

         Eventually they just let me wake up the rest of the way. They did the best they could with local anesthetics and nerve blocks, which did okay, and I was in a cast for most of a year. I didn’t know they even still used those. I’m not sure how they found a doctor who knew how.

         They were supposed to do a genetic test to try and see what went wrong, but it never happened. The sample was contaminated or something and no one bothered to try again.

         So, yeah. No general anesthesia for me.

  

**_[dearshiro16.raw]_ **

 

         They took him apart.

         I thought there might be a better way to describe it, but there isn’t. That’s exactly what it was, taking him apart. Not dismemberment or vivisection or any of those words, the violent ugly words that come with blood and pain and destruction.

         It wasn’t violent. It would have been less horrifying if it was.

         They started with his skin, methodically peeling it off in a single sheet, one side purple fur and the other a smooth, glistening blue-black, before dismantling the muscles and tendons and long, stringy nerves.

         He didn’t make a sound, but he stared at me – only at me, never blinking, never shifting his gaze to his- his companions, or to the other people passing through the hall.

         They didn’t look at me. They didn’t look at him, either.

         I couldn’t move. I tried to shout for the soldiers, tried to draw my knife and fight until it somehow ended, tried to scream at passersby until they looked up, until they saw, but I couldn’t move. He couldn’t move and I couldn’t move and all we could do was stare, watching each other, watching as he was unmade.

         He stared until they took his eyes, and I stared until he was an array of pieces laid out across the floor in brutal, meticulous order, and I stared as they began to rebuild him.

         

**_[dearshiro20.raw]_ **

 

         Sometimes I wonder if they were telling the truth about the surgery. Everyone said they hadn’t started yet, hadn’t made even the smallest cut, and that the regional anesthesia – they use that too, I found out, because apparently your body reacts to pain even when you’re unconscious, so they started numbing the area as well as knocking you out – that the regional anesthesia meant I wouldn’t have felt it if they had.

         Well, I don’t remember anything.

         The painkillers made me dream long, winding dreams with no beginning and no end, and sometimes I dreamed about waking up and staring at the surgeon, at their empty face and bloody scalpel, and asking them to stop over and over and over until the dream finally faded.

 

**_[dearshiro22.raw]_ **

 

         There wasn’t any blood. There should have been blood, gallons of it, pouring from him and turning the floor into a slick, shining puddle of gory purple.

         But there was no blood.

         I kept wishing there was, but from the start, I knew there wasn’t going to be.

         Instead, there was a thick yellow liquid that oozed from the gaps where they’d removed muscle and bone. It glowed in gentle, pulsing drips, and all I could think about was ichor, the golden fluid that ran through the veins of gods, pure and putrid all at once. I thought of Kronos, cut into pieces by Zeus and cast into Tartarus.

         When I learned about the Greek myths in school, I pictured cutting, chopping, slicing, a messy butchery splashed with blood, but as I stared I knew that my imagination had failed. Kronos had been taken apart, disassembled into individual components that shone with droplets of golden ichor.

         In some of the myths, Kronos is freed.

         In some of the myths, then, Kronos is rebuilt.

         In those, I pity him.

        

**_[dearshiro23.raw]_ **

 

         I never minded the time we spent in hospitals. I mean, I wished we weren’t there, that you weren’t sick, but the hospitals themselves… It never bothered me much. It’s kind of weird that it doesn’t, considering everything that’s gone wrong whenever doctors try to touch me, but all I ever thought about was what they were doing for you.

         I guess some people would think all of that was creepy. You did, sometimes – I could see your eyes go flat when they described the procedures, and when you looked away I was never quite sure if you were looking away from those or from the reality of your body that forced them into being, but I thought it must have been both.

         I would have listened to everything just so you could let yourself go when you needed to, but I was fascinated, too. I never cared much for biology, not the way they taught it in school, but there it was almost magic. They helped you rebuild yourself when exercises and electric therapy and medication wasn’t enough anymore. We both knew it wasn’t a cure, but it was time, time turned back as they took your cells and coaxed them back to near-infinite potential, taught them to form muscle that would grow and flex and chase the cramps and weakness from your limbs.

         That’s what scared you, I think. You’d already accepted the eventual outcome, and part of you protested pushing it back further and further, into decades of waiting instead of years.

         You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Everything will change, but it always does.

 

**_[dearshiro23.raw]_ **

 

         I thought that building and rebuilding was creation, but they rebuilt the Galran man and it was a more complete destruction than their unmaking could ever have managed.

         They put him back together piece by piece. It was as unemotional as before, like they were doing nothing more than assembling a car on a factory line, but somehow it was even worse.

         He wasn’t staring at me anymore. His eyes were blank and unfocused, their yellow a bit deeper than before, a bit closer to the golden fluid that seeped back into his body as slowly as it had oozed out.

         It wasn’t the same person. They built a new Galra from the pieces. He looked the same, and somehow I knew that he would have the same memories, the same voice, the same habits and jokes, that if he had them, he would go back to the same home and the same family.

         I knew that he wouldn’t remember this; he wouldn’t remember being taken apart, and he wouldn’t remember how they’d built a new man.

         I knew that this had happened before, a cycle of making and unmaking with an undefined, undefinable beginning and end, and I knew that it would happen again.

         He stood up. One of his companions offered a paw-like hand to help him to his feet, and the other turned to me.

         Their face was… a blur. That’s the only way I can remember it, can describe it. A blur, like it had been broken down and reassembled so many times that it had forgotten itself.

         _The Champion sends his regards,_ they said to me in a low, bubbling hiss. _The Champion is waiting._

         From the way they said it, the mechanical glee in their voice, I knew that I didn’t want to meet their Champion. I also knew- know- that I will. I have to.

         I turned and walked away, leaving my knife sheathed at my belt, my pace steady. I felt like I had been taken apart, too, and put together wrong – not as a new person, but as the same Keith, just a little more broken than before.

         Then I climbed in my ship and flew as fast as I could push it. I’m still flying. I’ll need to stop for fuel soon. I hope I’m far enough away for now.

         _V-X-9-2-7-H-A-dash-gamma._

I’m going to end up there again. I don’t think it will be this time when I stop. I think it’s let me go for now, but… not forever. I think I’ve stumbled into its cycle, into the wrongness that’s filling the universe, and I don’t know how to break it.

         I think you’re stuck here too.

         Shiro, I’m going to find you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Alice Isn’t Dead, Part 1, Chapter 1: Omelet


	3. Chapter 3

**_[dearshiro74.raw]_ ** ****

         

         Apparently I’m flying a taxi now.

         Yep, they’ve put me on passenger duty. I can’t exactly complain – I kinda doubt that evil empires have great HR departments. There’s definitely not much in the way of labor rights or unions. It’s… well, it’s as fucked up as everything else out here is, and I can’t do anything about it. I’m one guy, with one ship, and I’ve already got a mission. We can talk about saving the universe after I find you.

         Yeah, I know, you’re gonna make that face and ask why I’m talking about rebellion against the Galra Empire in a Galran ship while, right, I work for them.

         First of all, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure they can’t hear any of this. I’m recording on my phone – I messed with the charger so I’m good as long as it doesn’t actually break – and obviously I’m not near any cell towers, so it’s not connected to any networks. There’s always the risk that they’ll decide to check it, but they still haven’t paid much attention to me, and they might not even recognize it as technology worth investigating. It’s so primitive that I doubt they’d bother. Past that, I know the ship’s bugged, but only with trackers. I mean, I think so. I’m radio silent most of the time, so I show up on scanners – signals going out would be a great big flashing sign that said _hey, everyone, look at me!_

         Not a great idea. It gets boring out here, but that’s usually better than the alternative.

         Anyway, nothing going out, not much coming in.

         And second?

         I can’t do anything. I could rebel, I could go on a rampage, I could do whatever I wanted. Let’s say I managed something. Let’s say that somehow I managed to free an entire planet, get them on my side, make an army.

         It wouldn’t make any difference. They wouldn’t even _notice._ A planet, ten planets, an entire galaxy – it’s nothing against ten thousand years of imperialism.

         So sure, maybe they’re listening to every fucking word. Why should they care?

         They probably think it’s funny. Just like they probably think it’s funny to turn this into a passenger vessel. Am I supposed to make polite conversation? Serve drinks? God, this is going to be a nightmare.

         I’m not going to record any of these until they’re gone, though.

         See? I can be careful.

         It’s not the anti-empire stuff I’m worried about. It’s- okay, so maybe I was trying to convince myself that this is safe, because I’m afraid to stop talking to you. I’m afraid that… that you’ll blur, at least in my mind. That I’m becoming someone else, that I’m being taken apart and put back together too, and that I’ll forget if I don’t hold onto something. Onto you.

         And I don’t want them to know about you. I don’t want them to know I’m looking for you. I don’t- I’m not sure why. It’s just a feeling I have.

         I’m learning to trust those feelings.

         And right now?

         Right now, my gut is telling me that even if they don’t care about me, the Galra Empire might be very, _very_ interested in you.

         Shiro, what happened?

         Where did you go?

 

**_[dearshiro75.raw]_ **

 

         That wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. It was a little weird, but compared to everything else I’ve seen out here…

         Huh. I guess the weirdest thing about it was that it wasn’t too weird.

         The ship’s navigation system couldn’t find the planet at first. It kept insisting that there was nothing here. Even with the coordinates, it gave me an error, saying that this point in space didn’t actually exist. Incomprehensibly advanced spacefaring aliens have tech glitches too, apparently.

         He didn’t seem surprised. I think he was actually expecting it, so I guess it is just an issue with the programming. He had a portable nav. It was fine once that got hooked up, though I was pretty worried for a second. Like, what was I supposed to do if I just couldn’t find it? Tell them I got lost? That wouldn’t go over well.

         The guy wasn’t too bad either. He didn’t talk much, which was nice, and he didn’t try to mess with the controls or tell me how to fly. He made the ship feel really small, though, because he was fucking massive. Like… eight feet or a bit taller, and he _never_ skipped a workout. He was big even for a Galra.

         When he did talk, he was actually pretty nice. I could tell he had a bit of an ego, but it wasn’t too obnoxious. More confident than narcissistic, and…

         So I don’t do too well with authority figures, right? If someone gives me an order I want to do the exact opposite, just because I don’t like being pushed around. I can hide it better now, or I’d never have graduated, but I’m never going to be a good little soldier.

         If he’d given me an order, I might have gotten halfway through without even thinking. Charisma, I guess. And I think- I think that if he wants power, he’s going to get it, and nice as he was…

         I don’t see how anyone could stay good if no one told them no.

         Oh, huh. He never gave me his name. I mean, I didn’t ask, but there weren’t any introductions and it wasn’t on the orders I got. I didn’t realize that until just now. Doesn’t really matter, I suppose.  

         I’m gonna take a break here for a while. I haven’t spent much time out of the ship recently, and I’m getting some serious cabin fever. They haven’t given me any new orders yet, so it’s not like there’s anywhere I have to be.

         There’s a few things to straighten up, some paperwork, and I should do maintenance checks while I’m stopped-

         Yeah, I’m putting it off. The last time I- you remember.

         I try to keep stuff short now, getting in and out as fast as I can.

         I haven’t seen it happen again. I haven’t been near that station. But I think- I’m not sure. I think I’ve seen others. People who look a little empty, a little blank, a little blurred. Who look like they know exactly how we’re made, and how to take us apart, and how to put us back together so we’re closer to whatever it is they’re trying to build.

         I don’t want to know what that is.

         I keep thinking about what they said to me. _The Champion sends his regards._ Now that I’m paying attention to it, this Champion of theirs is showing up more and more. Nothing much – whispers, mostly, hushed by awe and fear.

         The whispers never come from people with blurred faces, and I’ve started to wonder- I think that maybe they’re trying to build something else like the Champion, whoever – or whatever – he is.

         Happy thoughts, right?

         The sky here is beautiful. It reminds me of the desert in midsummer, at sunset, when the entire world is streaked with gold and orange and pink. It’s more than that, though. It has the same haze of those evenings where the air is so thick with heat and dust that the colors have to fight their way through. It’s-

         Okay, that’s different, that’s… oh, _fuck-_

**_[Ship’s Log_ ** **_0014.06.32.00246]_ **

****

         … repeat, this is Keith, pilot of transport vessel designation 4-0-7-alpha-6 division V-X-9-2-7 broadcasting on all frequencies, requesting emergency assistance, the- the planet appears to be imploding after an unidentified atmospheric event. My designated passenger was successfully extracted, but attempts at evacuating bystanders failed. We are attempting to clear the planet’s orbit. Please confirm contact and provide further instructions. I repeat, this is Keith, pilot of transport vessel-

 

**_[Ship’s Log_ ** **_0014.06.32.00349]_ **

 

         - Keith, pilot of transport vessel designation 4-0-7-alpha-6 division V-X-9-2-7, reporting our final approach to the coordinates provided by my officially registered passenger. Please confirm contact and request for emergency aid to Planet Da-

         What the _fuck?_ Sorry, I- this looks the same, is it- let me check the nav-

         No, of course.

         We are beginning our descent into planetary atmosphere.

 

**_[dearshiro75.raw]_ **

 

         This is the same port. This is the same planet. Shiro, I watched the sky tear open into nothingness and start ripping this place to pieces, and I’m back.

         I checked the logs. There’s nothing there. Not the broadcasts, not the ship diagnostics I ran earlier, nothing, and the timepiece- the timepiece says it’s too early. I saw the displays when we were evacuating, and it’s close, but it’s about ten doboshes too early.

         I want to ignore this. It could have been a bad dream. I’ve been flying too much, I haven’t been sleeping well because the light cycle isn’t the same as Earth’s, I- it could have been a dream. It would have been so easy for it to be a dream.

         But the last recording is still on my phone. It’s there. I listened to it again. I heard myself see the- whatever it was that happened. The timestamp says it was added five hours ago.

         I’m watching the sky. I hope it’s not…

         I’m watching the sky.

         I tried to get people out. This isn’t a huge ship, but it’s a cargo ship – there’s room for cargo, so there’s room for people, even if it isn’t too comfortable. I tried to-

         I told them we had to go, that they needed to get on the ship. I pointed to the hole in the sky and the emptiness that poured through it, eating their planet. They stared at me. They backed away, turned, ignored me, or they didn’t hear me at all – they looked right through me, through the rift, and didn’t see anything at all, didn’t notice.

         There wasn’t time. Obviously there wasn’t time, the planet was fucking dissolving, but I couldn’t leave everyone. I couldn’t run. I had to save someone, just one person, just-

         I found the passenger I was supposed to drop off. I don’t know why, but I was sure he would see the sky, would understand that we had to go. And I was right, he did. He listened. We got to the ship, we got out, and I tried to get help. It was right above us, over the port, and there would be time to save… save some part of the population, at least. Even that tear would take a while to eat a whole planet.

         No one never answered. Interference, damage to the ship, I…

         Or maybe they were just ignoring me.

         He seemed older. The passenger, I mean. I still don’t know his name. At first he was kind of in shock, I think I was too, but he- he calmed down faster than I did. He gave me new coordinates, put them in the navigation system. I didn’t care where we were going, I just wanted to tell someone to help, to save whoever they could.

         Now we’re back, and I’m watching the sky.

         I’ll try to convince people to leave again. Of course I will. And I think I know where to find him this time.

         Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe…

         There’s a streak across the sky, like the air is a fabric being pulled until it stretches and distorts as the fibers are strained.

         Shiro, I have to go now.

         I have to go.

 

**_[Ship’s Log_ ** **_0014.06.32.00246]_ **

****

         … Keith, pilot of transport vessel designation 4-0-7-alpha-6 division V-X-9-2-7 broadcasting on all frequencies. We need emergency assistance and a planet-wise evacuation of Daibazaal. I repeat, this is Keith, pilot of transport vessel-

 

**_[dearshiro76.raw]_ **

 

         I’m back. Shiro, I’m here again. The same planet. I can’t-

 

**_[dearshiro80.raw]_ **

 

         I can’t change it. I can’t change anything. I tried to alter the ship’s course, I did alter the course, but-

         The people. They’re blurred. They all look the same now, they look empty, they…

 

**_[dearshiro80.raw]_ **

        

         I wonder what would happen if we stopped running. If I let the hole reach the ship, reach me, if I’d still find myself landing the ship on this fucking planet to do the whole thing again. I- I’m not sure.

 

**_[dearshiro96.raw]_ **

 

         I don’t know how long it’s been. Or, I know exactly how long it’s been, my phone is still going forward even if the ship’s chrono isn’t, but I’m losing track, I’m- I can’t remember how many times I’ve done this. Everything is the same now. The people are the same, I’m doing the same things no matter how hard I try to change it, I-

         There’s only one thing that’s changing now. Every time, the passenger looks older, harder, sadder- no, not sadder. He was happy before, I think, but it’s being drained away. The rift is eating it just like it’s eating the planet. He’s empty too, not in the way the blurred people are empty…

         He’s scared, though. Scared and angry. He remembers it too. No one else does. And I think- I think I recognize him now. His name, he-

         It’s happening again.

         Shiro, I…

         Shiro, I love you. I’ll get out of this. I’ll find you.

 

**_[dearshiro100.raw]_ **

 

         I left him.

         I left him to the rift.

 

**_[dearshiro101.raw]_ **

****

         It’s over. I’m alone.

 

**_[dearshiro103.raw]_ **

 

         Planet Daibazaal was destroyed ten thousand years ago after being struck by a trans-reality comet, creating a rift between dimensions.

         I watched it happen. I watched it happen so many times.

         There wasn’t any doubt by the end. I’ve seen his face enough on banners, heard his voice on announcements.

         I flew Emporer Zarkon to Daibazaal, and I left him there while the planet was destroyed.

         Planet Daibazaal was destroyed ten thousand years ago.

         Planet Daibazaal was destroyed today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Alice Isn’t Dead, Part 1, Chapter 2: Alice.


End file.
